Hour 1
Auror trainee Ginny Weasley didn't want to stay at work on Christmas Eve. She had family dinner to look forward to, no matter how subdued it was guaranteed to be. She didn't remember the last time her family had a care-free Christmas. Since she was twelve? Thirteen, maybe? It seemed so far away, and there was no revival of the happy time in sight.

Two years since she had left Hogwarts, and the war against Voldemort continued to rage. The Ministry held, and the Order was strong, but the Death Eaters seemed to have an easier time of spreading their influence. The movement was strong on the continent, from Las Culebras Del Muerte in Spain and the heavily involved underworld of the Russian black market. Everyone was too busy dealing with the domestic crisis in their own countries to worry about where it had even started.

She was almost out of her last year of training, preparing to take the trials, and currently on desk duty, which meant that she was processing files for who could be released on bail. For the fifth time in as many minutes, she glanced at her watch. Her mother said she would keep everyone for dinner until seven. It was currently a quarter 'til. She wanted out of here.

"Weasley!"

Her red head snapped up as her boss approached her. "Sir," she managed, having just been startled out of her wits.

Head of the Auror Office Abernathy Dawlish appraised her momentarily from under bristly grey eyebrows, and seemed to make a decision. "Weasley, there's a criminal waiting in interrogation room three."

Ginny tried not to sigh. Fifteen minutes, and she was supposed to be off, fifteen minutes! "I'll get the file and they can wait for bail. Give me a moment."

"They're not going to be let go tonight," Dawlish told her with a look that made her stop in her preparation to push herself back from the desk. "He was caught for possession of a Dark Object, but I have a feeling he'd have a sheet a mile long."

"… Okay…"

"You'd been paying your dues on desk duty, so, I thought you might want to try and handle an interrogation by yourself," he said as casually as possible.

Ginny forgot, for the moment, the extra long dinner table with all her family and may-as-well-be-family seated around it, and the food on top of it. "I… all right," she said, trying to contain her excitement.

She thought Dawlish continued talking, there would be another Auror observing, blah blah blah, she didn't listen. She was going to handle the interrogation alone. All alone. "… and it might end up taking two to get what we need out of him, but it might not. I don't think he's particularly… stable," he decided on.

"Rarely are," Ginny said with a dry look as they stopped outside of interrogation room three. "Let me at him."

Dawlish made an "after you" motion, and Ginny turned the doorknob, feeling the adrenaline pump through her bloodstream.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in the chair on the other side of the table, his feet propped up on the table and arms crossed over his chest. His robes were a bit worse for the wear, not by choice, Ginny suspected, but he had the same air of confidence and downright arrogance that he'd always had. He seemed to say I own this room with a single look.

Ginny merely tried not to look shocked. " You, " she managed with a hiss.

"Me," Draco Malfoy answered with a lazy drawl.

He's not Draco Malfoy anymore. He's a common criminal who used to have everything the world could offer him right at his fingertips, Ginny told herself. She hadn't seen him in years, not since the night he'd let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and it led to the death of Professor Dumbledore. He looked older but then, she was sure she did, too. Everyone did. "Dark Objects possession, and Merlin knows what else."

"I'm not even sure myself, I can't say for sure whether Merlin knows or not. … Weasel," he added, as if experimenting to see whether or not the childhood taunt still had an effect.

Ginny hated to admit it, but there was a small clench in the pit of her stomach. She didn't let herself react, keeping a calm exterior. "Dark Objects possession, and you were implicated in Headmaster Dumbledore's death and the invasion of Hogwarts by Death Eaters in June of 1996."

"So?" he asked, examining his fingernails.

Unprofessional as it was, there wasn't anything that Ginny wanted more at that moment than to smack him. Just go around the table and slap him silly. She could, he was unarmed, and as far as she knew there were charms that restrained his movement from the chair more than a step. She remained firm, sitting in the chair provided across from him. "We can do this one of two ways," she started. "We can make this short and sweet, where you confess to crimes committed and you stand trial, or we can draw this out into the night and spend hours chasing each other around the proverbial mulberry bush." She really did not prefer the latter, however, the excitement of getting to cover an interrogation all on her own having faded rapidly when she saw the ferret seated like he was lord of the castle.

"Settle in, Weasel, I'm not going to be telling you anything," he told her.

"Can't, or won't?" she asked. She could play his game, nearly a fully trained Auror.

"Well it would seem that I possess the capabilities, seeing as I am talking to you now. I can talk, I have the information, and I could divulge it. However, to do so to me would mean certain death," he said.

"We're not going to kill you," Ginny said. "We'll put you on trial, and you will go to Azkaban."

"You flatter the MLES, Weasel," he sneered. "What makes you think I was talking about you?"

It hit her like a sack of rocks. "You mean the Death Eaters," she surmised. "You're that high up in the-"

"I know things that would make Granger's hair curl, and that would be quite a trick," he smirked. "I have names, dates, plans for strikes that have not been carried through yet, and if I gave what I could, I would be as good as dead."

"We can protect you," Ginny answered quickly. "In exchange for information and leads to arrests, you can get lighter sentence, and protection."

"I don't trust you lot to protect me," he said, taking his feet off the table for the first time and leaning forward. "How do you know they're not here, among you? Trainees, full blown Aurors, workers in the labs, or the stacks, how do you know, Weasel?"

His tone made Ginny's blood run cold, like she'd been immersed in ice water. She'd become complacent, obviously. They truly were everywhere, no one was safe. This reminded her. "It doesn't matter," she said. "No one knows you're here except for me, Dawlish, and the Aurors who brought you in."

"Strand," Draco muttered.

"What?"

"Strand," he repeated. "Annabelle Strand. In Birmingham."

"There you have it then. Three people," she said. "Three people know you're here. We could get the information quickly, get you into protection, and I can get home. Quick and painless."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked, leaning back in his chair again. He looked right at her, and the feeling of wanting to hit him returned. An impulse from childhood that she hadn't fought down lately, and it was still quite strong. "Get comfortable, Weasel. I'm not going to back down and you're not allowed."

"I'll be back," she said, leaving through the door again for coffee and to write a short letter to her parents. She'd have to explain further later, but she hoped they'd understand.


Hour Four
Much time had been spent in total silence. He remained obstinate, staring at the wall, arrogant as ever. She filled her time by doodling on the parchment that was provided to transcribe their discourse – of which there had been very little since seven o'clock. Her stomach growled with hunger, and she winced. Draco smirked, and she glared. "Shut up," she said before he even had the chance to open his mouth.

"I don't even need to say anything," he said, sounding very pleased.

"That's because you've said it all before, and the insults weren't even that clever to begin with," she snapped.

"Touche," he replied, examining his fingernails. It was the first time he'd drawn attention to them, and Ginny examined them, too. They were ragged, like Draco had been biting them to keep them short, and there was dirt under the nails.

"You've been living underground a long time," she commented. "Can't imagine what that must have been like."

"You're right, you can't," he snapped. "It's been fine, though, I've had help. Not exactly easy, but I've managed, until now."

"Obviously," she said. "We're at a stalemate, Malfoy. I said it hours ago: information, and we'll protect you."

"And I've said I don't trust the Ministry as a whole any further than I can throw you," he replied haughtily.

She sighed, she was losing patience. It was ten o'clock, if she could get out of there soon, she could get home in time for tea, or hot chocolate. Maybe cider. Maybe she'd just see if she could find a dram of whiskey in the house, it would feel much nicer right about now. "I'm not leaving until this stalemate breaks, Draco. It's up to you how long we stay here," she said calmly as she could, leaned over on the table.

"Oh well, I wouldn't want to keep you waiting," he said in a saccharine tone that was anything but sincere. "Maybe I'm comfortable. Maybe it would be just one of the most absolutely wonderful bits of revenge to keep you from your blood traitorous, muggle-loving family and your amalgamation of misfit friends. I think it would. Better than anything I could come up with, for sure."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" she yelled, jumping up from the chair with a sudden burst of energy. She was the Auror, she had to be in control of this!

Draco smirked up at her. He didn't look intimidated, didn't even look like he might be hiding feelings of intimidation. It made her look like she was the childish one here and the one who should be ashamed. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and he continued. "No, really, who do you manage to stuff into that little hovel for the holiday? All seven of you, no doubt, and the parents, too. I bet Granger's there, her hair taking up space and Potter as well. Maybe… I don't know who all else, but I suppose one or two more doesn't make a difference for you."

"First of all, if you're thinking that much about the company I keep on the holidays, you need a new hobby," she replied acidly. "Second, it doesn't matter because I'm not going anywhere, and three, five."

"Five what?"

"Five of us," she replied. Charlie was dead, this would be the second Christmas without him, and Percy never came back, despite everything that had changed since he originally broke ties with the family. It gave her a pang in her heart to think of, but it couldn't enter here. Could not. So long as they were sinking to personal attacks… "What've you been doing the past couple Christmases, Malfoy? Huddling in some basement of a shop in Knockturn of someone sympathetic to the Cause? Hiding. That's honorable. Sacrifice for the Cause, after all, it must be nothing for a Death Eater of your importance."

Draco seemed to be uncomfortable. "You seem to know something about sacrifice for a cause," he replied coolly.

Ginny's head spun with rage, and she shoved his feet off the table, the closest thing she could reach to take it out on. Contact with the prisoner outside of the necessary, expressly forbidden and against the procedure and conduct rules, especially when the contact was of a violent nature. Ginny knew the reasons behind it, so that the Department could not be sued or have confessions suppressed, but he made her so mad. "I do! And I don't mind saying so!"

Like a snake striking at its prey, Draco sprung out of the chair towards Ginny and just as quickly, the restraint charm snapped him back into the chair with such force that he cried out. Ginny, her heart beating wildly in her chest from the sudden activity, made herself breathe again. Draco was breathing hard as well, his head bowed and platinum blonde fringe hiding his face. She remained against the opposite wall, as far as she could get. "Not leaving until I get the information I want out of you," she repeated with a deadly calm.

"Funny," he said dryly. "Always thought you'd had a thing for me."

"You flatter yourself," she retorted. "We've already gone through this-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he snarled. "I give you everything you bloody want and then you throw me to the wolves in the guise of protecting me. You can't keep me safe. I'm not safe. They'll kill me before they'd let me live."

"You keep saying they," she realized slowly.

"Of course I am," he said.

"I think you wanted to be caught," she said. "After all, someone who's escaped MLES for years is all of a sudden caught on something as minor as a Dark Objects possession charge? That sounds suspicious to me."

It was a long moment before Draco answered, he was staring at the self-inking Quick Notes Quill that transcribed their conversation as it scribbled furiously, finishing Ginny's statement.

"I have nothing to say," he said, and let the quill record that with a flourish.

Hour Six
Ginny was tired after running on pure adrenaline, and she doubted there was a person she hated more than Draco Malfoy at that moment. Lord Voldemort, maybe, but it wasn't the Dark Lord who'd kept her away from her family on Christmas Eve and kept her there in the early hours of the morning. They'd sat in silence mostly, with one more go around, with the same result. Nothing.

"So," Draco broke the silence. "Read any good books lately?"

"I don't think you're in a position to be blasé about this," she said.

"Oh yes, poor me, the criminal at the mercy of the big bad, redheaded Auror. What's it to be, Weasel, hot oil or the rack? I'm getting bored with the verbal methods, maybe you should just try to beat it out of me." Draco sounded very bored with the proceedings, as he had since Ginny saw him. The only true burst of emotion had been when he lunged for her out of the chair, with little warning, it seemed.

"You don't have anything to gain, sitting here and staying quiet," she told him.

"I don't have anything to gain by divulging the information I have, we already know that," he said with false patience.

This was something she'd been tossing around in her head at least for the last several hours. "We can hide you."

"Oh will you shove it up your arse?" he asked. "I'm not interested in putting out my neck for people who won't put theirs out for me."

"Not us in the MLES," she answered. "The Order." If he had as much to give as he made out that he did, he knew about the Order. That she was a member wouldn't have been any huge surprise. "We can hide you, I promise, we're really good at it."

"Why would you?" he asked, honest. Ginny could tell that it was an honest enough question. She wasn't quite sure why. Personally, she'd just as soon extract the information out of him and feed him to the sharks. Looking at him again, however, she saw something besides the arrogant berk he'd always been. Head resting on his hand, he looked tired and worn down. She was tired too, she was sure she looked terrible. His tiredness seemed to go deeper, down to his bones and something that ran through his veins with his pure blood.

"You're tired of running," she told him quietly, and then repeated, "You let yourself be caught."

"Maybe," he admitted. "I wasn't thinking it at the time, but… maybe."

"It gets tiring, hiding and running, doesn't it?"

He gave a small sound that was somewhere between a bitter laugh and a cry. "I always knew I'd be in trouble," he said. "From the minute Dumbledore said I could, and I didn't…" He trailed off, giving a shaky sigh. "On the tower, he gave me a choice… I was supposed to kill him," Draco confessed.

The Quick Notes Quill gave a shudder and began to record again, but it barely even registered to Ginny. "But you didn't."

"I couldn't," Draco said. "I didn't understand why he would offer it to me if I was trying to kill him."

"Dumbledore was the sort," Ginny merely said after a moment.

"I suppose he was," he said, and exhaled. He studied the dirty fingernails with jagged edges, and then covered his face with his hands, hiding every emotion from Ginny. She waited, willing him to take her offer. "I don't give a damn about my father, he left me among them to do what I would," he said, with a vehemence that she'd never heard. "But my mother, she needs to be protected. She could do it herself, but there's so many of them."

"She can be hid too, Draco," Ginny said, and paused. She stopped the quill, undoing the charm and it fell limp to the table. "And it can all be done tomo – er, today," she said, after a quick glance at her watch.

"Extralegal anti-terrorist groups don't take a rest on Christmas?" he asked dryly.

"Well, we might have a bit of a lie-in, but complete rest, no," she answered. "So we'll have a full confession."

"If you and your Order friends can get my mother and me into hiding, then yes," he said with a sigh. He was resolved, Ginny saw that much.

"I'll talk to my parents," she told him, standing from her chair. "I'll bring in someone to take it down."

"Not you, Weasel? I can tell you've been waiting for this day for ages," he said a bit bitterly, and she realized this probably was not one of the more pleasant things he'd ever done. She felt… not pity, but… sympathy.

She wanted to take it down. So badly. She pushed the uncharitable feeling down. "Not me. Just a trainee," she said. "Happy Christmas, Malfoy."

"Says you," he said, slumped back in the chair, still looking somewhat belligerent, but… relieved, somehow.

"I do," she said, opening the door and leaving the interrogation room. Her mother and father were not going to believe this.